Foolish
by Nikki Whitecraft
Summary: sometimes the path we have is the path that makes us foolish


Foolish by Nikki  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing not even my soul what chance do I have of owning Harry Potter Summery: everyone is foolish, but sometimes it's too late to realise you were Author notes: I would like to thank my wonderful beta QW who without you I never would of wrote this.  
  
Foolish  
  
You would think that after all these years I would have learnt what so many had tried to teach me, but no, I knew better then that, so I scorned them. Scorned them for their foolishness, their idle dreams, and yet it was I that was foolish- and in the end, dead.  
  
I used to watch you from across the hall- always laughing at something, your eyes aglow with an inner fire. Yet you never noticed; I made sure of that, but if you had looked up, would you have seen me watching? Would you have seen the glow in my eyes; seen it for hate, or for what it really was: jealously, admiration, and dare I say, love- even if back then I never really understood?  
  
We met in the hall- do you remember? Hmm, no, I don't think you do, do you? Oh well, no harm- I'm glad that you might not remember. I wish I could say the same, but I remember all too well. I remember turning around the corner, my two shadows behind me, then *BANG*- we fell, me landing on top of you. I still remember the feel of your body under me, so soft. It was strange: I was expecting you to feel anything but soft. I remember breathing in deeply. Your scent was so overwhelming. I didn't want to move, even at your scathing remark. Then you raised your hands to my chest and pushed me. For someone who looks so small, you're strong- but you know that, don't you? So I sat there till my shadows pulled me to my feet, sneering at your back until you disappear into the potions classroom.  
  
We never met again after that. It was the last class we ever had to take; the next day we left Hogwarts, went our separate ways. After all, we had our own paths to follow. Yet now that I think about it, I wish I was on the same path as you, but I guess we were, almost. Sadly, it had to be against each other, on parallel and never meeting roads, and no matter how I felt, or was just beginning to understand, I knew one of us wouldn't see our twenty-first birthday. We were so young, yet if someone were to look into our eyes, they could see our true age: ancient beyond our years. War does that to you, but then, you knew that, didn't you?  
  
The rain was odd; somehow it felt as if the heavens were crying for those that lay dead and dying, but also, it was washing the blood away. I remember it clearly now, standing in a stream of rain water and blood, watching you from across the field. Those that I called friends falling around me along with those that you called friends; but I didn't care. I only had eyes for you- the way your body moved so gracefully, the arch of a brow, but most of all, I watched your lips. So full, so kissable.  
  
And that, I guess, was my greatest downfall- and your greatest conquest. You looked up then, eyes staring straight into mine. Something flashed though them, too fast to catch, before you start to walk closer. I stood there, waiting. My job for this war had been done; I was free now, but for what, I didn't know, and maybe that made me foolish or maybe I was just scared of what would or could come- after all, I'm nothing now.   
  
So I watched you come close, your wand raised, and I stood there, my fingers numb around my wand. But I didn't care. I stopped caring a long time ago. You're standing there now, less than a meter away, and you look like a rock, unmoving. I could call you foolish, but I know that you're not. I can hear the others shouting, the war won, but which side? I don't really care; my eyes are only for you, standing there: hair plastered to your head with the rain and blood, and I look right into your eyes, mine begging for the only thing you can give. I'll never know if you saw it in my eyes or just hated me with a passion- that makes me smile. Don't they say that passion comes from hate, or is it love? But you raised your wand and uttered the curse. As the light come towards me, I looked right at you- right into your eyes- showing what I had just learned, and made it vocal. "Love you." So quietly uttered, but sounding like a scream, yet the last thing I saw- I will ever see- was the shock on your face- and a single tear falling from your grey eyes, so much like the sky above with the rain falling.  
  
For even as my greatest enemy, you become my greatest love; and I was to foolish not to realise until it was far too late, for I had already given up by that time. But I am glad for something, if nothing else: it was your hand that gave me peace in death, something I could never have received in life. Or perhaps I was too foolish, and maybe too eager, for peace that I never realised I might have been able to find it in your warm embrace, your tender lips, and your body filling mine. I guess I was foolish, but aren't we all allowed to be? 


End file.
